


Rotten Work

by PeonyPages161



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, At least until shortly before the end of OOTP, First War with Voldemort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, POV Multiple, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeonyPages161/pseuds/PeonyPages161
Summary: An accident in the Department of Mysteries throws Hermione back in time, to the Marauder's fifth year. Now she has to do the rotten work of living through a time and story she already knows the ending to without getting attached to people she might not be able to save. But then again, Harry is not the only member of the Golden Trio with a saviour complex, and Hermione has never been good at not getting attached.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Smashing Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the pandemic and the accompanying restrictions have left me with a lot of time on my hands and I've decided to return to working on an age-old idea that I abandoned when I was like 16. I've got about half of this story planned out, I've got a good number of chapters written and I intend to see it through this time. But since I'm also a working, university attending adult, I don't have as much time on my hands as I'd like, so I won't upload more than once a week or once a fortnight. Special thanks to my Beta Reader, DelilahMidnight (<3)
> 
> Part of why I'm writing is that I want to improve and see if I can write the things I like to read. And as I really like ambiguity and being challenged, this will be a multi-POV work, and I won't always make it immediately obvious when the POV changes because I personally like reading things like that. I hope this won't confuse you or scare you away or something.
> 
> This will probably be angsty and dramatic. It also won't be an Alternative Universe, it'll adhere to canon in a lot of ways. There will be violent scenes and there will be dark themes. But so far, I have planned no scenes of torture or sexual assault or other triggering topics. If I do plan to include triggering content, I will go back and edit this section to give trigger warnings for specific chapters and topics. I will also include trigger warnings at the beginnings of chapters if they contain triggering scenes. I definitely won't include sexual assault or rape - not as graphic descriptions and not as "fade to black" scenes where the characters will then deal with the fall out because it's just not a story line I'm interested in.
> 
> So yeah, that's that. I hope this endless author's note hasn't scared you off.

Chapter 1: Smashing Glass

Her heart had been beating so loudly in her chest that she felt like it would at some point just have to give out. Surely no one could be so scared for so long. Hermione could barely hear what Harry was saying over the pounding off it, try as she might to focus. She was afraid her wand would slip out of her sweaty hand any second. If only Harry would finally, finally give them a signal, to attack, to do something, anything, if only this waiting at least would be over.

And then, suddenly, he screamed “NOW!”, the voice of her best friend angry and powerful, and she bellowed out the Reductor Curse. As the shelves and prophecies all around them exploded into chaos, someone grabbed her robes and she started running, trying to grasp the person running in front of her, it was Harry, she saw, and then someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

“ _Stupefy_ !” she roared, and the Death Eater collapsed on the floor. Harry took a right turn and she looked over her shoulder. “Neville, come on, hurry up, hurry, hur- _Reductio_!” Another shelf started to collapse, showeing one of Death Eaters with glass shards as Neville caught up with her. She started to run faster again, a door was open in front of her, she could see Harry’s anxious face and threw herself over the threshold, turning around immediately to seal the door magically.

“Where – where are the others?”, Harry asked and her heart sunk. She had been so worried about making sure Neville was safe, she had just assumed that the others were in front of them. When she suggested that they must have taken a wrong turn, Harry’s face turned white as a sheet.

“Listen”, Neville said, and Harry pressed his head against the door. For a second, she could catch her breath. Ron would be okay, she was sure of it, he was smart and talented, brave, and so was Ginny and of course nothing and no one could get Luna down.

She looked as if she would faint any second, trembling from head to toe and with a face just as pale as Harry’s, who still had his head pressed against the door. “What do we do?” Hermione whispered, looking at Harry, but before Neville could answer, Harry told them to get away from the door. They started running as silently as they could and had almost reached the circular hallway when they heard a loud bang behind them and dived under desks just as the Death Eaters blasted into the room. Neville looked around frantically; Harry was a bit closer to the door but Hermione was further behind them, facing the door as if she had guarded their retreat.

He listened to the Death Eaters cross the room and then decide to check under the desks. He could see Hermione and Harry readying themselves to leap out and stun them. When Hermione did, he could hear the beginning of the killing curse and then a loud grunt. The green jet whizzed past Hermione as Harry tackled one of the Death Eaters, and Neville felt useless and stupid and anxious.

Whirling around, she tried to make sense of the chaos around her – there was a black cloaked body on the floor, clearly unconscious, Harry wrestling with one of the Death Eaters and then two wands flew through the air, back towards the Hall of Prophecies and past her and she lunged after them.

“Hermione, be care-” someone yelled, and as she looked up, she saw the Death Eater throw himself at her. An involuntary shriek left her mouth, and she jumped aside. The Death Eater dived under a desk for his wand and then crawled out from under it on the other side, wand in hand – now there was the desk between them, the weird bell jar on it strangely holding her gaze for a second, and then Harry yelled her name again. A curse was coming towards her, through the jar, the strange glittery wind seemingly attaching itself to the green light while the jar remained unharmed -

She ducked as the curse hit the gigantic cabinet behind her, blasting it apart, and Harry almost let out a relieved sigh. But something wasn’t right, as the half-crouched Hermione was being showered with glass, the air suddenly seemed to crackle and burn, weirdly glowing and darkening around his best friend. “Hermione, get away from there!” A red jet of light whizzed past him, missing the Death Eater and instead hitting one of the bigger glass shards mid-flight, blasting it apart.

Hermione could see Harry’s mouth move but the words were muffled, like she was under water. Her skin was prickling – as if she was having an allergic reaction like that time she had accidentally eaten peanuts as a child - and the air was vibrating around her. Something exploded, she could feel glass hit her head and then a chill ran down her spine. Something was flying upwards, something glittering but it was like it was pulling the floor upwards with her. The tables behind Harry began to blur and flicker, finally being swallowed by blackness that made Neville disappear, too, she reached out for Harry, his face an expression of utter terror and confusion –

“HERMIONE!” Harry roared as the glimmering and flittering around her thickened, the air now hot and prickly, making the hair on his arms stand. He wanted to run towards her but something was stopping him, he could not move a muscle. Then suddenly someone grabbed his arm, he looked and stared into Neville’s terrified face. “What’s happening to her?”

“I… I do- don’t know, Harry, I…”

When he looked back, the glimmering was so bright he had to blink, his eyes started to tear up and as he was furiously wiping them, suddenly the glimmering flashed blindingly and then stopped entirely. The cabinet was whole again, as if had never been damaged, but Hermione was gone.

************************************************************

He had been sitting at the desk for hours, staring at his hands, his mind churning. It was a mild June night, the school year was just nearing its’ end. Minchum had been by, using this years’ OWL exams as another opportunity to corner Albus. As Ministers for Magic went, he was not entirely bad, certainly more realistic in his analysis of Riddle and the threat he presented but lacking imagination. And, Albus feared, Minchum, too, was blind when it came to the reality that many of his own employees felt some degree of sympathy towards Riddle’s ideology. Then again, that was a flaw that did not surprise him at all.

Sighing, Albus stood up and turned to Fawkes. The night was still young and as he considered how he would spend it, he felt the air shift around him. Suddenly, just for split second, the room went cold and dark. There was a loud bang, as if something had fallen onto the floor behind him. When he turned, a girl he had never seen sat crouched on the floor.

She looked ragged and tired and scared, with cuts on her face, her bushy hair streaked with glass. The air around her crackled.

He was younger, she was sure of it, but there was no doubt that it was Dumbledore standing beside his desk, watching her quizzically over his half-moon spectacles. She couldn’t help but sob, her whole body convulsing once, twice before she finally got up. Hermione stumbled, her knees felt wobbly and weak, but then she was finally standing. “Professor… I -”

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but I have no inkling of who you are.” The girl slumped, a curious expression crossing her face, as if she had expected but dreaded this. Her grip on her wand tightened, and for a second Albus was worried. He allowed himself to feel for her mind for just a second, just to gauge if she was a threat. There was confusion, her thoughts whirling and circling, and something like a deep sadness and fear, but no anger or hatred. Relief even, curiously enough. “What is your name?”

“Hermione Jean Granger. I’m… I’m a fifth year student at Hogwarts. Or… I was. Or will be? I…”

She clamped her mouth shut, suddenly afraid she had said too much. What was the right course of action here? McGonagall had told her that terrible things happened to wizards who messed with time, and what was she doing but messing with time? Still, she hadn’t done this, this was an accident and if anyone could help, it was Professor Dumbledore. “I… I was born in 1979.”

She tried to read Dumbledore’s face, but it was as calm as if she had just told him that magic existed. Had she been wrong, after all? Was she still in her own time? But no, that couldn’t be, he had told her that he didn’t know her. And he was clearly younger, his face not nearly as lined and tired as it had been when she had last seen the Headmaster. Still, she didn’t know what to say, so she just waited, her heart beating in her chest as loudly as it had just minutes earlier in the Ministry.

“How… curious. Well, Miss Granger, this is the year 1976. The eleventh of June, to be precise.”

She felt as if a lorry had hit her, and the tears came. 1976. She did not even exist yet. She had not yet been born. Hermione Granger was a distant possibility, and yet here she was, a sixteen year old girl, standing in the office of the headmaster of the school she would attend in fourteen years. Something had happened in the Department of Mysteries, some magic she did not understand, and now she was in the past. Finally, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of it and sat down on the floor, shaking and crying soundlessly.

Suddenly, Dumbledore was crouching on the floor beside her, one hand on her should. “Well, well, Miss Granger, from your reaction I gather that this comes as rather a shock to you. Am I correct when I conclude that arriving her was not your intention?”

The girl shook her head furiously and then tried to steady her breath. With the wand clutched tightly, she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Hermione took another deep breath and then suddenly looked determinedly up at Albus. “It was an accident, Professor. I… I don’t know how much I can tell you about it. I’m scared. I don’t want to mess things up.”

He nodded and stood up. “Well, Miss Granger. I would suggest that we sit down more comfortably, maybe get some food or something to drink in you. And then you may tell me what you wish to divulge, and we can see how much of this we can understand.” He held out his hand to help the girl up, and when she took it, was surprised at how cold and shaky it felt.

A few minutes later, when the jug of pumpkin juice had been brought and emptied, she seemed calmer, though she had not taken a bite of the pastries in front of her. Albus was weighing his options, trying to decide if he should let her talk or start asking questions or reach out for her mind again to gain a better understanding of the situation. She had seemed to want to start talking a few times, but had always stopped.

Finally Hermione put the mug down on Dumbledore’s desk and sat up straight. She felt like she had been sitting a particularly difficult exam, running different scenarios in her mind and still absolutely unable to confidently pick a course of action. Still, she needed to do something, say something. The silence was heavy and she wanted to do nothing more than go to sleep, but she felt like the headmaster would not let her go to bed without some more information. However, the words would not come.

“Miss Granger. I can see that you are terrified, and you must be tired. Your desire not to mess things up, as you put it earlier, honourable as it may be, seems to be hindering your ability to tell me what I must know. I’m afraid I cannot ease that fear entirely, but I hope that you may at least be assured that whatever you tell me will not leave this room without your blessing.” Dumbledore’s eyes were kind and curious, but Hermione wondered if there wasn’t also a hardened glint within them. She was suddenly surer of her impression that she would not get to sleep without telling him something. “You said you came here by accident. Please tell me everything you can about the nature of said accident without divulging circumstances that would illuminate too much of the times ahead.”

Suddenly, Hermione felt calmer. She took a deep breath and began talking about the Battle in the Ministry of Magic, starting with the fact that they needed to find something in the Hall of Prophecies and were ambushed by Death Eaters there. Dumbledore’s facial expression remained unchanged – calm, interested but otherwise unreadable – even at the mention of the Death Eaters, despite her desperate wish for some hint at what he was feeling. She mentioned no names, but explained that she and two friends had been separated from the rest of their group and fled into a room that was devoted to the study of time. When she described the bell jar, she believed a flicker of recognition crossed the headmaster’s face that then turned surprised when she described the Death Eater’s deadly curse passing through it. Her voice faltered when she tried to describe precisely what had happened when it hid the glass case behind her. “I… I felt so strange. Like I was lying in a warm bathtub and standing in a freezing storm at the same time. Everything, the room, just kept growing darker and darker, and then there was this flickering, just images, and then… suddenly I was here.”

He had never heard of anything comparable. Granted, temporal magic had never been a field he had been too invested, but he had dipped his own toes into the murky waters of time travel in his school years with the approval of the Ministry. Albus remembered the warnings he had been given quite clearly despite the decades that had passed. That had partially been why after he had finished school and with everything that had happened at Godric's Hollow, he had stayed far, far away from temporal magic. It was too tempting, the option of seeing them both again.

But Minerva might be able to be of some assistance, as magic dealing with time was often considered a subset of transfigurative magic, though he wasn't sure how much she had explored it. When he suggested to Miss Granger that they bring her into their confidence, he was surprised but relieved when she immediately agreed.

Minerva, much like Albus, had been unable to sleep. Unlike her close friend, she had decided to escape the weight of her own thoughts for a while. Thus, she had spent the evening in her Animagus form, rolled up comfortably in her favourite armchair, her green eyes intently fixed on one of the photos set on the mantelpiece. When Albus’s Patronus appeared, she stretched and reluctantly returned to human form, already preparing for the wave of sadness to crash over her. Loath as she was to admit it, tonight she had been grateful for the simpler emotions of the animal world. Grief was not a constant companion there, she thought as she strode down the stairs from her apartment into the common room.

The room was largely empty, the embers already burning low, but a few students still remained so he kept his voice low when he asked Remus again if he was really sure. “Yeah, Sirius, I am bloody sure. It wasn’t there, and then her name appeared in Dumbledore’s office out of thin air.” Remus jabbed at the bit of parchment that said ‘Hermione Granger’ as if it had called his mother a rude name.

“Why were you watching Dumbledore anyway, Moony?” Sirius teased, but before he got an answer to his question, Remus hastily deleted the Map and shoved it under his books. Seconds later McGonagall passed by their table, giving them a quizzical but not unfriendly look.

Walking at night, the silence of the castle was striking. Even now, Hogwarts managed to seem like a safe haven. Although it was rarely good when one was called to the Headmaster’s office late in the evening; it was usually a sure sign that news of the outside world were about to creep in.

A wave of warmth and affection washed over her when McGonagall entered the Headmaster’s office. As much as she had always admired the head of her House, Hermione had never thought that her presence would make her feel so comfortable. Still, the older witch carried with her an air Hermione had never seen before. She seemed exhausted, and sad.

Dumbledore’s voice was soft, almost apologetic when he summarized the situation for Minerva. As much as he trusted her opinion, he also wished to spare her, to give her room. And still, he could not help but wonder if a challenge might not also provide some welcome distraction.

“I understand why you hope that I might have some answers, Headmaster.” Minerva said after a few minutes of silent pondering. There were few cases that were comparable; most witches and wizards travelled no further back than a few days and accidental time travel had been exceedingly rare since Shakespeare’s time and the Ministry’s first attempts to regulate it. “But this, unfortunately, is outside of my area of expertise. I also understand why you might hesitate to contact the Ministry about this, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

The girl in front of Albus’ desk noticeably tensed up. She understood distrusting the Ministry, still, that an apparent time traveller shared the sentiment came as a surprise. “None of the cases of accidental or intentional time travel I have ever heard of covered such a temporal distance, or carried this far-ranging implications,” she continued. “I can’t judge how reversible it is, or how to best handle it. We must ask for the assistance of someone more knowledgeable than me.”

She was right, he knew. Albus took his glasses off. “Very well. We must be careful, and I do not think we should use the proper channels to make contact.” He saw Minerva open her mouth and held up a hand to stop her. “Miss Granger, you mentioned Death Eaters and a fight, so I assume that despite your youth, you are aware of the turbulent times we live in. Though, for you, they must have been turbulent history.”

Hermione nodded. “I do not wish to officially notify the Ministry of your arrival here and the circumstances of it. As much as I trust our current Minister, that trust does not extend to everyone he surrounds himself with. Tom Riddle learning of the possibility of such large scale temporal magic could have unforeseeably disastrous consequences.” For a second, he seemed to want to explain who exactly Riddle was, but her nodding again prevented it. Instead, he stood up. “It is quite late, and I can only imagine the toll this day must have taken on you. I think it best that you should sleep in one of the rooms the castle keeps for my guests, and we can continue strategising after a hearty breakfast tomorrow.”

Hermione agreed, though she was sure she would not be able to sleep any time soon. Exhausted as she was, she still felt her mind whirling like a carousel. Lying down in the dark was not likely to slow it down. But when she stumbled standing up, she realised that she could barely follow the conversation any longer, much less make decisions.

The Headmaster lead her to one of the bookcases and tapped it with his wand, then up a beautiful marble staircase to the first landing. The room that was lay behind the heavy wooden door was small, but cosy and welcoming, a hearty fire already crackling in the fireplace. The four poster bed was massive, twice as wide as the one in the girls’ dormitory, with a bedspread with the school's emblem on it that she crawled under quickly as soon as she was alone. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.


	2. Carefully

Ron sits crouched on the floor, holding his leg in pain, Crookshanks curled beside him. I try as hard as I can to hold back the tears back tears and grab his hand, willing my voice not to shake. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s the dog?” Harry asks before Ron can answer me.

He moans in pain and I bite my lip to keep myself from crying. Ron’s hand is sweaty and clammy in mine. “Not… not a dog… Harry, it’s a trap -”

“What-”

Ron grits his teeth and clenches his fist so tight I almost protest, but he cuts me off. “He’s the dog, he’s an Animagus, Ha-”

There’s a loud bang. It’s a trap, a trap, my heart races in my chest. When I turn around I almost drop my wand. A gaunt figure steps out of the shadow.

Sirius Black looks like there is no flesh left on his body, just skin stretched tightly over bones. His elbow-long hair is a matted mess, and his face – I look away again, I can’t meet his eyes. Having met the Dementors, it’s no wonder that he looks like this. The voice that comes out of his mouth when he disarms us is barely audible, a croak so faint I’m surprised the spell actually works. His eyes are trained on my wand, but he looks at me for the tiniest of seconds and I can’t help but shiver. He hates me, I’m sure of it.

Hermione jolted awake and was entirely disoriented for a second. The unfamiliar room, the bed that was far too big, the surprisingly soft, cool blanket against her skin – it all overwhelmed her, and then she remembered. She was in Dumbledore’s guest room, in a luxurious bed three years before she would even be born.

It was too much. She didn’t want to deal with this, she could not. Sleep, she decided, was what she wanted and she closed her eyes again. But she knew it was a futile attempt. And really, it also felt quite childish, reality would still be there exactly as it was right now even if she went back to sleep. Shutting her eyes would just draw out the inevitable. Nothing to it but doing it, her mother had always said.

She sat up and propped a pillow against the headboard, drawing her legs against her chest and looked out the window. Far, far below her, behind the rooftops and turrets, she could make out the Black Lake and her heart ached in her chest. Just days ago, she had been sitting on one of its’ banks, nagging Harry and Ron about having to study and about how being done with one exam did not mean they could now just slack of and waste the afternoon.

Harry and Ron. She’d dreamt of them.

The dream had been peculiar. It hadn’t even entirely felt like a dream, it had been so clear to her. Sirius had been so angry, she remembered. Their eyes had only met for a second, and yet the rage he had given off had made the hair at the back of her neck stand up. He had not looked at her again afterwards, she was sure, and been oddly cold even when they had freed him from the Astronomy tower.

But still, something about it did not feel right. It was like she was catching her reflection on water, just slightly unclear, moving around. Something had not been like that, something had changed. And then it hit her: her memories were reforming because she had travelled in time. Sirius had not been cold and distant and barely hiding his anger at her when they really first met, he had cared far more about Harry and Pettigrew to pay any attention to her.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” She threw the cover off, jumped out of the bed hastily and went to grab her robes when she saw that they were gone. House elves had left new clothing, folded, on the armchair next to the fireplace. She whirled around, but could see neither parchment nor quill to write with, and what if she was running out of time, what if in a moment the old memory was gone? What if she would not even be able to remember that there had been an old memory?

She grabbed the folded robe, hoping that underneath it would be her other belongings, but they weren’t there. She bit the fingernail of her thumb in anger. Why could she not find parchment and quill? There was a note she needed to make, something important, something to do with memories and she couldn’t because there wasn’t anything to write with in this stupid room. She turned around again and noticed that it was actually rather cold, even for a morning in June, the thick stone walls of the turret keeping out the summer heat and –

wasn’t there something she had meant to write down? She couldn’t remember it, only the sense of urgency and dread that had propelled her out of bed. But now she was cold, and the exhaustion she had kept at bay was creeping back in. Whatever it had been would come back to her, surely. Hermione climbed back into bed.

************************************************************

He’d been looking uncommonly thoughtful even by Remus’ standards, swirling his spoon in his tea obsessively as if he was brewing a potion rather than having his usual breakfast Earl Grey. The name on the map was probably still bothering him, the fact that it had simply appeared in Dumbledore’s office despite the supposed impossibility of Hermione Granger having just Apparated into the castle.

“You’re still obsessing over the map, aren’t you, Moony?” he whispered after making sure no one was sitting within earshot. “Why does this bother you so much?”

Remus sighed. Of course Sirius didn’t get it. “We just worked out the last kinks, you know, finally figured out how to make sure it actually tracks people when they move and now -”

“Now some random woman used Apparition to show up in Dumbledore’s office and got you all worked up over nothing.” Sirius stabbed the sausage with so much force it shot off the plate. “Just, you know, relax. _Accio_ sausage.”

Remus leaned back as the sausage whizzed past him straight into Sirius’ open mouth. “You are unreal.” As annoyed as Remus was by his antics, his comment delighted Sirius to no end. “And I’ve told you a hundred times, you cannot just Apparate into the castle, that’s just not how it works, there have been charms around it for ages and –”

“And Dumbledore probably disabled the charm on his office and let what’s-her-face in,” he said through a mouth full of meat.

James shuddered in disgust, ripped a bit off his bread roll and threw it across the table at Sirius’ head, eliciting a chuckle from Peter. “Honestly, I knew the Black family was a mess but that it was a literal pig sty…” For a second, he caught Lily’s disapproving look and immediately sat up a little straighter. “Seriously, Evans, you have to help me! Do you see what kind of table manners I have to put up with?”

But she was already deep in conversation with Mary Macdonald again. “Disgusting as he is, Moony, Padfoot’s probably right though. You wanna go to the library once we’re done?” He suggested, knowing very well that an afternoon bent over books and studying for their upcoming OWLs was the only way to take Moony’s mind of the map.

Remus sighed. Even with Sirius’ explanation something didn’t sit right with him, but he knew the others didn’t get it. “Yeah, okay.” He sipped on his tea and searched the teachers’ table for an unknown face, wondering if Hermione Granger was sitting with them, meeting Dumbledore’s eyes for just a second.

He could never really help but wish to know the consequences of his own actions. As Remus Lupin looked at him, Albus wondered once again what would become of the young man he had given a chance when he knew many others would not. He had kept an eye on him, always, not just because of his lycantrophy but also because of Lupin’s particular group of friends. When he had been sorted into Gryffindor and sat down beside Sirius Black – possibly one of the biggest Sorting surprises of the decade – Albus had had an inkling of the trouble to come.

A hot wave of shame rolled over him when he saw Remus’ look at Dumbledore. He knew how much it meant that his best friend could even attend school, that under any other headmaster it would have been impossible. And still, Sirius had almost cost Remus’ everything, out of a stupid need to get back at Snivellus, of all people. Snivellus had found his weak spot, of course, Regulus, and had goaded him mercilessly, but the way he had lost his head still made his stomach churn.

He was incredibly grateful that James had kept his cool head and interfered, dragging Snape out of the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack just in time. He was even more grateful that James had thought to invoke Snivellus’ owing him his life to make sure he could never spill Remus’ secret. But perhaps the thing Sirius was most grateful for was that Remus did not know what had happened. James had promised not to tell him even as he raked Sirius over the coals for almost turning their best friend into a murderer. James understood, after all, he understood how it felt when Snivellus pushed one’s buttons and how scared he was for his brother, that the possibility of Regulus turning his back on Sirius terrified him more than anything in the world. His mistake was their secret, he was sure of it, but sometimes, when Dumbledore looked at him, he felt like maybe it wasn’t entirely.

He wished he had an inkling regarding the right course of action now. Miss Granger was still asleep in the guest room, so he had some more time to consider. Though Albus doubted that there was a real possibility of it, reversing whatever magic had brought her here seemed like the best solution. Still, that would take some time and she would need to be protected until then, and even more so if she could not be returned to her own life.

As much difficulty as her appearance could cause, he could not help feel intrigued rather than worried. The girl clearly knew him, and as necessary as it was to tread carefully, he assumed she could offer at least some insights. Lately he had often felt like he was just a step away from the precipice, though few people around him seemed to know it yet. Minchum’s appointment, of course, had been the first hint that he was no longer the only one perceiving Riddle as a threat, but the sense that he was one of the few with an accurate outlook remained. So he would take any assistance he could, and he was quite sure that Miss Granger could be of some.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned around. “She is awake, Headmaster,” Lucy squeaked. Albus nodded, and the house elf disappeared as quietly as she had appeared. Standing up, he caught Minerva’s eye and knew that she understood. Together, they left the Great Hall and made their way through the castle back to Albus’ office, each leaving the other to their thoughts.

Only when the large stone gargoyle guarding the office came into view, Minerva finally cleared her throat and asked “So it is still your conviction that Miss Granger should stay at Hogwarts, I presume?”

He could not help but smile, acutely aware that Minerva disapproved of his plan but correctly took his silence as a sign that he had not changed his mind. Those were the small joys of decade long friendships, knowing each other as one does the back of one’s hand. “Of course it is. And it is also my conviction that she should remain in Gryffindor, not just because it is clear that she belongs there but because I trust you, and you alone, to ensure her safety.” The gargoyle came to life as they stepped on the first step. “I know I am asking a lot from you. Please trust that I would not do it if I did not believe it to be of paramount importance, Minerva.”

“I’m aware, Albus.” For a second, she wondered if that was really all it was – if he truly believed that he could trust only her or if he also saw Miss Granger’s appearance as a convenient opportunity to try to distract her from her grief.

She had been wondering if she would be able to simply pass through the bookcase in Dumbledore’s office disguising the stairway while she had been making her way down the stairs, but just as she reached the bottom, the doorway opened as if of its’ own accord. When Hermione stepped through it, she realized that of course it hadn’t: Dumbledore, who was standing in the other doorway with Professor McGonagall, had opened it from the other side. She suddenly felt a bit awkward – had they been waiting here for her?

“Miss Granger. Last night’s rests seems to have done you some good.” He could not help but use Legilimency. She did seem more calm, more determined as well, but her mind still gave him the feeling of gears constantly turning. “Would you care for some breakfast?” Albus asked. When she answered affirmatively, he swished his wand and conjured a small tea table as well as a large burgundy armchair and a two seater couch in the middle of the room. With a second swish of his wand, he summoned some tea, biscuits and English breakfast from the kitchen.

When the Professors took their place across from her on the couch, she could not help but feel as if she had gotten into some form of trouble. Still, the tea and classic breakfast was surprisingly comforting, even as it felt rather odd to be the only person eating. She had finished half her plate when the Headmaster cleared his throat.


	3. Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the last chapter was so short and filler-y, I decided to upload this one a bit earlier.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has left Kudos or bookmarked or subscribed to this story so far, it's really keeping my going to know that people are not just reading but liking this.

Chapter 3: Revealed

“Well, Miss Granger, as you know we think that there is no way to investigate what happened to you without contacting someone from the Department of Mysteries. Of course there are people that we find trustworthy within the Department, but neither one of them work on temporal magic specifically,” Albus said. It was clear that the girl was trying to control her face, just as it was clear that was disheartened by what she was hearing. “You must realize what that means, of course. It will take some time to find someone we can trust enough to let them know of your existence and history. I’ve already sent word to Reuben Scamander, asking for a meeting. He will know who to turn to.”

Hermione’s heart sank in her chest. She had never believed that there would be a quick solution to this, but that Dumbledore did not even know who to ask yet meant that it would take longer than expected.

“Until then, it is safest for you to remain at Hogwarts. Of course you will need to attend classes and live in the dormitories to blend in as well as possible.” She noticed how Albus smiled warmly as Miss Granger nodded in agreement. “Please never hesitate to contact me or Professor McGonagall, your Head of House. None of us know the potential consequences of your accident. So please, if you observe anything out of the ordinary, anything about yourself changing, do reach out to us.”

She had expected this, of course, and she agreed: Hogwarts was the safest place for her to be at the moment. Something about it made her nervous, of course, though she could not quite put her finger on it. “How will we explain my appearance here to the – well, everyone else?”

Dumbledore smiled. “I have given this some consideration, of course. We thought we might present you as the orphaned daughter of the retired British attaché to the MACUSA. When your parents were killed in an accident, you decided to return to stay with your Muggle relatives in England and finish your education here.”

Minerva could see the wheels turning in the girl’s head. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, Miss Granger,” she chimed in, “but the previous British attaché to the MACUSA lost his post after his derogatory comments on the Squib Rights’ March almost ten years ago. Thus, he and his wife have lived far out of the public eye in the US until their death three months ago. It was barely mentioned in the Prophet. We do not expect your classmates to question your story, and the questions from your teachers are something we will be dealing with.” For a moment, she wanted to reach out and squeeze the girl’s hand but stopped herself from doing so.

“And my last name?” Hermione noticed she’d been biting her lower lip and immediately stopped. “Oh, I know. I went back to my mother’s maiden name because I disagree with my father’s comments. And because it is a Muggle name, people won’t know it.” It was almost silly how the smile exchanged by Dumbledore and McGonagall made her feel happy.

She took another sip of her tea, willing her hands to be steady as she put the cup down. This would be hard, she knew, but she had also been determined to ask ever since she woke up. Looking into Professor Dumbledore’s eyes, she took a deep breath. “I know about the Order of the Phoenix, Professor. And I would like to join. For… for as long as I’m here. I want to help.”

For a second, he was surprised that she knew of the Order at all. It was still so early in its’ development, no more than half a dozen people knew of it. What would become of it if this sixteen year old girl knew? What kind of history would they make? Then again, she said she had been duelling Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. The future might be darker than he could imagine at this point in time.

“Miss Granger, the Order is no trifling matter. Dark and dangerous times are on the horizons, and we must prepare for them. Members of the Order will be in grave danger, and you are still a student, almost a child.” The girl was frowning and clearly preparing to answer, but Albus said quickly and calmly: “I cannot condone you putting yourself in danger.”

She had been prepared for this answer, of course. “Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, as long as I’m here I am already in more danger than any of your other students. If V-Voldemort finds out about me... where I really came from, he will hunt me.” The weight of what she was saying only sunk in as she was doing so, she realized, and reached for the tea cup again to cover how badly her hands had started to shake. For a second, she thought of Harry and the fact that he had been living with Voldemort hunting him for a year now. “Sooner or later, the Order might have to protect me anyway. I want to be a part of that from the beginning.”

Albus looked to Minerva and she wondered how he could expect her to have a helpful answer. Miss Granger’s point made sense but the idea of letting this child – any child, really – join the Order outraged her. No matter what she knew about the challenges ahead of them, this girl was not equipped to deal with the Dark Magic they would have to face sooner or later. Unbidden, Robert’s fate came to her mind and for the first time, she felt anger rather than a deep sadness.

“This is a terrible idea and under no circumstances can I condone it. You are a child. Far more experienced wizards have already lost their lives.” She took a deep breath, hoping it would take the sharp edge out of her voice. “Miss Granger, I understand your wish to join the Order, I genuinely do. But as long as you are safe here, at Hogwarts, I see no need to put you in danger.”

She looked over at Dumbledore, trying to read his expression and failing miserably at it. Hermione had always found McGonagall a bit intimidating, but for the first time her Head of House positively radiated anger. Still, it wasn’t fair – she couldn’t expect people to put their lives on the line for her and not be willing to do the same. “Professor, if I’d stayed in my own time, I would have turned seventeen in three months. I know I have no way of proving that to you, but it’s true. Legally, I’m almost an adult. I –”

Albus held up his hand and Miss Granger immediately stopped talking. “I trust that you would not lie to us. But Minerva is right, you are still a student and lack experience with Dark Magic. Let us just return to this point of contention if it becomes necessary.” He knew that neither witch was entirely content with this solution. But he also knew that if he let Miss Granger join the Order while she was still this young, it would certainly cause questions he was not willing to answer. “You said you were a fifth year in your own time. I suggest you continue your education here until you return to your own time. Of course you do not have to participate in the Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations; however, we can arrange for you to be able to take whatever classes you want to take for the next two years.”

Hermione used the pause Dumbledore made to catch his breath to interrupt. ““Actually, I would like to take my OWLs. I’ve already studied for them, Professor, and I think I need the distraction. I mean, if there is a way to make that work with the Ministry.”

Minerva could not help but smile. “There will be a way to make that work, Miss Granger.” Standing up slowly, she surveyed the breakfast table in front of them. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast? I’ll write to Diagon Alley to acquire the rest of your school supplies. Once you’re done, come to the Gryffindor tower so I can introduce you to your fellow students.”

"Actually, I’m done, Professor.” The girl put her half-empty plate down and stood up, as did Albus.

“Alright then. Albus, I will see you after lunch, I assume?” He agreed and she could already feel the exhaustion creep into her bones. She wondered what was going through his head as he watched Miss Granger and her leave his office.

Walking through the castle, the silence between them felt companionable. She realized she had never spent quite this much time alone with Professor McGonagall, and how little she knew about this woman she admired and respected. Of course she researched the First Wizarding War and knew what role Hogwarts and Dumbledore had played in it, but she also realized how terribly incomplete everything she had read really was. The Order had never really played a role in the official histories, or at least it had never been mentioned by name. She hadn’t even known that McGonagall had been a part of it.

“Did you know I had two brothers, Miss Granger?” When the girl just shook her head, she quickly continued, “I didn’t expect you to. I’m not in the habit of sharing personal stories with my students.” She sighed deeply. She had not talked about this much. Still, it might help her understand.

“My younger brother, Robert, joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately after he finished school. His marks were exceptional, especially in Defence against the Dark Arts, and he passed the aptitude tests for potential Aurors quite easily. When he finished his training, he had already gained a reputation as someone to watch.”

They were nearing the Gryffindor tower, she realized, and stopped. It took the girl a moment to notice she had, but when she had turned around and come back the two or three steps she had gone, Minerva continued talking. “After two years, he was assigned the role of Leading Auror in an investigative mission to Bradford. Everyone noted that few people were assigned Lead Auror positions so early on in their career, but it seemed like a fairly simple mission. They were to investigate whether or not an explosion had been caused by dark magic. Of the three people including Robert that went on the mission, only one returned, though he was gravely injured.”

“I’m so, so – ” she started to say, but McGonagall holding up her hand made her clam up.

“The Ministry is officially still investigating the ambush. But many within the Auror Department and some outside of it, like Professor Dumbledore and me, are quite certain that this attack was carried out by the Death Eaters and, most likely, He Who Must Not Be Named himself. Do you understand why I so adamantly rejected your request, Miss Granger?”

She was still looking for the proper words, something to comfort the older witch but then simply decided to nod. It made sense now that McGonagall had seemed so different to her than the witch she knew.

“Robert was an excellent wizard and a fully trained Auror. He fought heroically, according to his colleague that survived, but was killed within minutes.” She locked eyes with Hermione, hoping she was truly understanding. “You are a child, and even if you turn seventeen soon, you are still a student. You are not at all prepared for what is out there. And as you have no relatives and are a student of my house, I feel especially responsible for you for as long as you are here. As noble as your motives are, I cannot allow you to put your life in danger.”

She suddenly realized she had never really spent this much time with her Head of House, much less spent it engaging in what felt like a staring contest with her, and became uncomfortably aware of how piercing her eyes were. Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I understand, Professor. And I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Minerva nodded quietly and started walking again at her usual brisk pace. “By now, the Castle will have prepared a place for you in the dormitory of the fifth year girls. Once your supplies arrive from Diagon Alley, the house elves will place them in your trunk. You should take today and tomorrow to consider which OWL examinations you would like to take and let me know by nightfall tomorrow. Though if you wish to take Divination, which is on Monday, I would prefer to know earlier.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the snort of disgust that came from Miss Granger. “I take this to mean you will not take the Divination exam. An understandable decision, if I may say so.”

They had finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Somehow, she immediately wanted nothing more than to draw this moment out, maybe walk another round through the castle. It felt as if stepping into the Common Room would make it real, as if trying to live her life here, even for a day, would somehow mean that she was claiming this as hers. She thought about asking another question, buying herself some time, but before she could do it, Professor McGonagall said the password and strode into the Common Room. Hermione could do nothing but clamber after her into the brightly lit, familiar room full of unfamiliar faces.

She was surprised to see McGonagall stride into the common room and nudged Mary, who’d been too absorbed by her Defence against the Dark Art notes, to notice. “What do you think is going on?” she whispered and then noticed the unfamiliar girl standing beside the entrance. Her brown hair was almost as curly as Mary’s but that was were the similarities stopped. She was white, slender and brown-eyed, wearing a Gryffindor uniform and fidgeting, playing with her hair and then immediately stopping again, and looking around as if she was searching a familiar face. She smiled at her warmly, hoping it would make her feel a little more comfortable.

McGonagall cleared her throat and suddenly all eyes were first on her and then on Hermione. She wanted nothing more than to melt into the wall.

“Thank you for your attention, Gryffindors. I will keep this as short as possible.” She looked back at Hermione, arching her eyebrow ever so slightly. Feeling as if she was plunging herself from a cliff, Hermione stepped forward and stood beside McGonnagall, who continued introducing her and the cover story they had concocted. She was only half listening, watching the faces of the students around her instead. There was a redhead sitting in a corner, curiously eyeing her, next to a curly-haired black girl that had already returned her attention to the book in front of her. She wondered which of them exactly were her soon-to-be roommates. There was a redhead sitting in a corner, curiously eyeing her, next to a curly-haired black girl that had already returned her attention to the book in front of her.

Then Professor McGonagall wished them all a pleasant day before striding through the room, the new girl – Hermione Granger, McGonagall had said her name was – in tow. “Miss Macdonald, Miss Evans,” she greeted them when she reached their table. “I’m glad to find you here. As you might have gathered, Miss Granger will be sharing your dormitory. I do hope you will treat her with the decency one might expect from a Gryffindor.”

Lily could not help but smile but immediately felt it fade when she caught Hermione’s eyes which were wide and terrified.

She had had a gut feeling all the way from Dumbledore’s tower as if she was overlooking something. Now she regretted that she had pushed the feeling away, telling herself that it was just the craziness of the situation. This felt like some sort of nightmare. If Hermione had to look into those piercing green eyes a second longer, she would burst into tears. Abruptly, she turned to Professor McGonagall and said “Could I speak to you in private, Professor McGonagall?”, ashamed at how squeaky and thin her voice sounded.

“Of course, Miss Granger. Follow me, please.”

“What in Merlin’s name was that?” Mary whispered to her as the two walked away. “She looked at you like you cursed her or something.”

She was craning her neck, hoping completely illogically that she might be able to catch a word of their conversation over the noise of the common room. Mary was right, that reaction had been so weird, as if she had done something deeply terrible to that Hermione girl despite never having met her. When she said so to Mary, her friend squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“I mean, we’ll probably find out what got her robes in a twist. She’s in Gryffindor now, it’s not like she’ll be able to avoid us, ya know?” Lily still looked stricken, so Mary rested her head against her friend’s shoulder, knowing full well that her afro tickling her face would immediately distract Lily. When she gave her a playful shove and then nuzzled her head quickly against Mary’s shoulder in return, she knew her distraction had worked, at least for now. “Oh, by the way, do you think we should repeat that section on werewolves? Dark creatures are such a classic topic, but I know they asked about them last year and I don’t think they’d ask again.”

She couldn’t help but feel grateful that McGonagall had apparently immediately understood the gravity of the situation as they quickly crossed the common room, wondering if Lily Evans was still staring at her. She tried to keep herself from shaking. How could she have been so oblivious? She’d read about the first war, she wasn’t stupid, she could have added two and two together or rather done some simple subtraction and realized that Lily and James Potter as well as Sirius, Remus and Pettigrew would be in Gryffindor now.

When the door to McGonagall’s private room closed, she let out a heavy sigh and slumped onto one of the armchairs. “I am so sorry, Professor, but I can’t stay in Gryffindor.” Realising where she was, she sat up a little straighter and subtly looked around the room. It was a comfortable, but not overly large living room furnished in surprisingly dark and earthy tones living room, dominated by a row of bookshelves across the fireplace.

She sat down in the armchair across from the girl. Of course Minerva had expected something like this the second she had seen Miss Granger’s face when she introduced her to Lily Evans, but she was doubtful about what could be done. “Could you elaborate as to why?” she asked to buy some time.

“I… Professor, I know some of these people. I know where there lives will lead. I…” She looked up at the ceiling and blinked twice, thrice, as if fighting tears. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep up my cover with them. I… Professor, I can’t face these people knowing what will happen to them and just… pretend not to know.” The thought of having to pretend not to know what Peter Pettigrew would do to his own friends made her almost shudder. “I can’t.”

Minerva sighed. Again, she had expected this and wondered how to make sure the girl knew that she genuinely understood and wanted to support her. “I understand, Miss Granger, but you have no other choice. We just told everyone that the Sorting Hat put you into Gryffindor upon your arrival. We cannot sort you again without confusing your peers and risking your secret coming out.” She reached out and gave Hermione’s hands a short, strong squeeze. “The school year will be over in a few weeks, everyone will be gone, and we will find a way to bring you back home over the summer break. Not letting you switch houses is the best way to protect your secret at the moment, Miss Granger.”

She looked up from her hands, into McGonagall’s eyes. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if McGonagall really believed that they would be able to send her back over the summer break. The “what if not” felt like it hung unspoken between them, like mist rising over the Forbidden Forest on an autumn morning.


	4. Out of Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was one of my favourite chapters to write so far, and one of the main reasons Hermione lands where she lands, time-wise. I really hope you'll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Chapter 4:  Out of Anger 

Breakfast had never looked less appealing, but she knew she had to eat. Poking the scrambled eggs with her fork, she could feel her stomach turn. She hated exam days, she hated finals weeks and she especially hated her OWLs. She wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep for a hundred hours.

“Come on, Lily, you need to eat.” Mary slumped down on the bench beside her and gently nudged her in the side. “Why are you so nervous? You’ll do fine.”

She sighed and angrily speared a bit of egg on her fork. “I hate Defence against the Dark Arts. It’s such a mess, and that we have someone new teaching it every year doesn’t help. I would rather take a hundred Potions exams than one Defence one.”

Mary chuckled. “That’s such a very you thing to say. I’ll never take a Potions exam again.” She chugged a mug of pumpkin juice and set it down forcefully. “Wouldn’t do it even if you paid me.”

“Ah, come on, I’m sure you passed.”

“Even if I did. I’m dropping that, I’m done grinding beetles into Sleeping Draughts or whatever. Plus, I’ll have more time for Quidditch training. Now can you give me some egg?”

When Lily reached for the large bowl of scrambled eggs, her eyes met those of the new girl, sitting a bit further down the bench by herself. She immediately looked away, and Lily felt annoyed all over again.

She’d been keeping to herself. Early in the morning, she got up while the other girls still slept, snuck down for breakfast and then went to either the library or the banks of the Great Lake until one of her exams started, stayed at the back of the Hall during it, then came to lunch as late as possible, took her practical exam and hid in another abandoned corner of the castle to study while everyone else milled around outside, went to dinner at the last minute, hid again and finally returned to the dormitory to go straight to bed. Today Hermione had overslept, that was the only reason she was at the table at the same time as everyone else, her Defence against the Dark Arts book propped against a giant bowl of porridge.

She’d run into Remus Lupin on her way back to bed late one night. He’d been the last person in the Common Room, poring over a pile of notes and books, looking awfully wan and sleep deprived. He had less wrinkles and his mousy brown hair was devoid of grey streaks, but apart from that, he looked like he had always done. She had been tempted to just turn around and run away, but instead had simply nodded and smiled at him and walked briskly through the Common Room and to her bed. Only then had she allowed herself to start sobbing, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth in the hopes the other girls wouldn’t notice, especially Lily.

There was magic she did not understand yet and so she had chosen to believe that she would be able to return to her own life and time. Dumbledore and McGonagall were extremely capable, and even if it went over their heads, they would find someone within the Department of Mysteries that could help. And this was Hogwarts, after all. If there wasn’t something within the Department, it would be in the school’s library.

She had chosen to believe this because everything else was too painful. She needed to believe that this was just a temporary thing, a setback, a weird story she would be able to tell Harry and Ron in a couple weeks, months at the most. Still, the five days she had been there had been hard for her.

Of course Hermione had been tempted to become friends with Lily at the very least. She knew she needed to keep her distance from Remus, Sirius and Peter especially, blend into the crowd and hope they wouldn’t remember her twelve years from now, but with Lily it was different. It felt deeply cruel to think that, of course. And she wasn’t sure if she could keep her mouth shut about the future if she and Lily actually became friends. At the same time, she would be so delighted to tell Harry stories about his mother once she got back.

She frowned as she handed the bowl of eggs to Mary. “I really wanna know whatever is going on with that girl,” Lily grumbled. “She keeps sneaking back into our room in the middle of the night and crying herself to sleep, did you notice?” Her friend shook her her head. “Her bed’s right beside mine. I’ve heard her.” She looked back over at the new girl. “I mean, I get it. If my parents had died three months ago and I’d had to move… but she just seems so closed off. I really want to help her, but she seems so hostile and I don’t get it.”

Mary sighed. “Y’know what? Let’s just… not think about her for a bit. Let’s finish breakfast and then get to the library, do some last minute cramming. We still have about an hour.” Lily nodded and both girls wolfed down their breakfast quickly. When they got up, the new girl – Hermione was her name, Lily reminded herself – was gone. Walking past the four fifth-year Gryffindor boys, she smiled at Remus quickly but glared daggers at Potter when he tried to catch her eye.

He sighed into his porridge as Evans stomped past him, Mary shrugging apologetically. The anger that almost radiated off her whenever Evans looked at him made him feel like he was the Giant Squid rather than James Potter, heartthrob and seeker of Gryffindor. Still, it was fun to rile her up, fun to see how angry she got every time he teased her. After all, it was just teasing, he didn’t really want Evans to go out with him. Way too uptight, that girl.

That didn’t change that he could hardly keep himself from thinking about her all morning or from staring at her again and again throughout the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam. She sat four aisles across from him, two rows to the front, straight backed and focused on her own parchment, writing carefully and deliberately. She was pretty, he had to give her that, though not the prettiest girl in their year. Her vibrant green eyes and fiery red hair were an odd combination.

He shook his head and tried to refocus on the last question he still had to answer, number ten. Five signs that identify the werewolf, a question James had left for last because it was so bloody easy. He scribbled out the answer as Flitwick called out “Five more minutes!”

She sighed and read over her answers again one last time. Defence Against the Dark Arts had never been her favourite subject, but by now, Hermione’s practical skills had largely caught up with her theoretical knowledge, largely thanks to Harry. And she couldn’t not smile at the werewolf question, looking around the Great Hall for Remus.

Finally Flitwick called out, instructing them all to put down their quills and then summoning their parchments to him. When they soared through the air and struck him down, laughter erupted in the hall and Hermione could not hide a smile herself. It was clear that Flitwick was not yet the beloved but respected figure he had been when she had originally arrived at Hogwarts.

She grabbed her things and stuffed them in her bag, then followed the maelstrom of students spilling out of the Great Hall, through the Entrance Hall and onto the grounds. Lily and Mary were milling behind while Sirius, James, Remus and Peter were striding through the grounds as if they owned them and the castle. It was a beautiful sunny day, the trees swinging slightly in the breeze, peaceful and calm. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be here, her, now, at least for a little bit.

The Black Lake was glittering in the sun, calm and smooth for a change. It was refreshing to dip one’s feet into it, even as Lily could never entirely stop wondering about the things lurking beneath the surface. As much as she loved swimming, she’d never dared to go further into the lake. Nonetheless, it was nice to just sit here, listening to Mary and Dorcas, who’d caught up with them on the way down from the castle. For a moment, she pretended they were back in the Lake District, rather than at school.

She turned to them and said: “You know what? We should meet up again this summer, go somewhere together.”

Mary, who had waded in until the water reached her knees, turned around beaming. Then she spotted something behind Lily and her face immediately fell. “Shit,” she whispered. James was standing over Snivellus, who was struggling to get up, Sirius just a step behind her team mate, both of them with their wands trained on the defenceless Slytherin. Why in Merlin’s name could these stupid pricks never behave? She hated the slimy git, too, but it just seemed like this would unnecessarily ruin an otherwise mostly nice day.

She wanted to say something to Lily but it was already too late, her best friend had turned around as well. For a second, she didn’t recognize Severus but then it clicked and Lily stormed up the slope to the beech tree, yelling “Leave him ALONE!”

He could feel his stomach sink as he recognized the angry voice and turned to see Evans charging up from the bank of the lake. Almost involuntarily, he ruffled through his hair. “All right, Evans?” he said and wanted to kick his own shins for how weird his voice sounded. Her angry sneer made him flush, and when she asked what Snivellus had done to him, James couldn’t help but try to be funny. Pointing out that it was Snivellus’ mere existence rather than something specific he had done, he basked in the laughter of the other students his remark earned him.

For a second, she wanted nothing more than to lunge forward and hurt the self-centred piece of shit. Instead, trying to stop her voice from shaking, she said “You think you’re funny, but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” he said and almost immediately regretted it. He had no clue why he had said that. Still, he couldn’t back down now. “Go on…” He gave her what he thought was his most winning smile. “Go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.” Lily replied as quickly as an escaping Snitch, and would have sworn she saw a hurt expression flicker across Potter’s face for a second.

Sirius sucked in the air between his teeth and tried to make light of the situation, but then remembered Snivellus. As he turned towards the slimy git, there was a flash of light and a slashing noise, and suddenly, James was bleeding. Before he could do anything, James had clearly cast the Levicorpus charm, and Snivellus was hanging upside down above them, his greying underpants revealed to all the world.

The laughter was uproarious and deafening, but it couldn’t drown the shrill, angry voice yelling “Stop it!”. James and Sirius whirled around. The new girl was standing among a clump of students, looking almost as angry as Evans, with her bag on the ground and her wand clutched tightly in her hand.

“And what’s it to you?” Sirius’ tone was aloof, but he was curious. He couldn’t remember seeing this bushy haired creature so riled up, or seeing much of her at all, for that matter.

She was genuinely stuck for an answer. When she had heard the laughter, Hermione had abandoned her spot near the bank of the lake and been horrified to see Harry’s father and godfather essentially torture Snape, magically washing out his mouth. She’d known that they had gone to Hogwarts together and hated each other, but she had had no idea how horrible they had been to the future Potions teacher. She couldn’t help but pity him, but when she looked into his upside-down face, almost red with anger, she remembered the shame she had felt when he had embarrassed her in Defence against the Dark Arts in her third year or that time he had pretended that Malfoy’s teeth growing hex made her look no different. Suddenly, she felt anger flare up in her at Snape as well.

Still, this was cruel and she was about to say something when Lily almost growled “She’s right. Let him down!”

James shrugged in an exaggerated manner and quickly gave Sirius a mischievous grin. “Certainly,” he said and jerked his wand upwards, letting Snivellus fall onto the floor in a disgruntled heap. Padfoot immediately Petrified him again.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” The two girls yelled in unison and when he turned to Evans, she had her wand drawn and pointed at his face.

He really did not want to repeat the experience of being hexed by Evans. As uptight as she was, she was wicked quick and skilled. Still, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him. “Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you,” he said, trying to sound earnest and hoping no one was noticing how little he wanted to be hexed himself.

“Take the curse off him, then!” Lily demanded. The audacity made her blood boil. As if Potter could hex her.

She could hardly contain the sigh of relief when James Potter took the curse of Snape, flashing a smile he probably thought was charming at Lily. Hermione bent down to pick up her bag, only half listening as James said something about Snape being lucky that they had been there.

And then she heard Snape speak for the first time, not yet in the disinterested, cold drawl that she would come to know so well but in an angry snarl. “I don’t need help from some stupid girls, especially not from a filthy little Mudblood!”

She felt like she had been slapped. She felt like she was eleven years old again and Petunia had just called her a freak for the first time. She felt her heart break and all affection for Severus vanish immediately.

“Fine. I won’t bother in the future.” Lily said, trying to keep her voice level and cool. “And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus.”

She could see that using his hated nickname had hurt Severus, and was about to turn around and just walk away from the misery of it all, when Potter roared “Apologise to Evans!” and she couldn’t help but turn on him, anger rising like bile in her throat.

“I don’t want you to make him apologise! You’re as bad as him!” When she took a step closer to him, Potter stumbled one back. He looked like she had slapped him. She felt a rush of power and anger.

“I’d NEVER call you a – a – a you-know-what,” he protested.

She took another step closer, noticing the flicker of hurt and maybe even fear in Potter’s hazel eyes. “Messing up your hair because you think it looks so cool, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can,” Lily rattled off everything that had ever annoyed her about Potter. She took a deep breath and yet another step closer. “I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me sick.” She spat the last word in his face, shortly locked eyes with Severus and abruptly turned. She hurried back to the castle, almost running into the new girl.

Judging from Lily’s expression, Hermione could imagine in how much pain she was. Then she looked at Snape, his face contorted into an almost unreadable grimace, as if he was in pain, too, and wondered if they had been friends at some point. That Lily had so passionately defended Snape suddenly made far more sense. Maybe she should go after her.

But then she heard James mumble something and Sirius answer in an even tone: “Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate.”

“Right. Right,” James growled, spinning around quickly and snapping his wand, hoisting Snivellus back into the air upside down. “Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?!”

Remus closed his book with force, but before he could get up and stop James, the roaring laughter was interrupted by the shrill voice of the new girl. “You will do no such thing, James Potter,” she yelled as she quickly crossed the last bit of the lawn between him. There was a loud bang and then a very unmanly shriek as James’ own bogeys started flying out of his nose and attacking him.

She rounded on Snape, crumpled in a heap on the floor. “You useless arse. Get out of my face before I hex you next.” The wide eyes in Snape’s otherwise angry face felt like a personal triumph to Hermione.

Remus tried his hardest to hide a smile, but when he looked at Sirius trying and failing fairly miserably to do the same, he couldn’t help it. Finally, with James red-faced and trying unsuccessfully to fight of the bats while most students around him laughed loudly, he took pity, pointed his want at the seeker and said “ _Finite Incantatem_.”

“Thanks mate,” James mumbled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “What a bloody – ”

“Don’t.” Remus interrupted him. He looked around for Granger, but she was nowhere to be found. Then he spotted a bushy haired silhouette in the distance, on her way not to the castle but to the Gamekeeper’s hut. “What the hell was that all about, Prongs?”


	5. Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s reviewed this recently, praise is definitely what keeps me going! <3

Chapter 5:  Over 

She had avoided returning to the Common Room for as long as she could after her practical exam, but it was almost half past eleven and she knew she would be in trouble if she was caught roaming the castle. With a sigh, she scooted of the ledge by the window of the abandoned classroom and began her way back.

It had been an utterly weird day and Hermione was not ready to deal with the consequences of her actions. She had been determined to stay on the sidelines for as long as she was here, to keep her head down. Instead she had now not only been part of a massive public spectacle, she had also caught the attention of James and Lily Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and most likely Severus Snape – in short, of almost everyone she had wished to avoid. Going back to the dormitory she shared with Lily Evans made her stomach churn. What would the other girl say to her?

With a sudden pang, she though of Harry and Ron. Moving through the castles alone so very late at night made her miss them more than ever before, though she had kept the longing for them at bay by simply not thinking about them too much so far.

It had been weird and sad to visit Hagrid’s without them all the same.

She had not planned to see the Gamekeeper, but after the incident by the lake her feet had carried her there almost automatically. He had been surprised to see her, a completely random student he had never interacted with before, but invited her in nonetheless. It had been awkward and reminded her of her third year. Back then, she had arrived at Hagrid’s hut all by herself because Ron and Harry had been shunning her. Now she had had to go there alone because Ron and Harry did not even exist yet.

Would she ever see them again? And if so, how? Who would she be by then? Hermione could already feel herself changing ever so slightly. Her belief that Snape was fundamentally someone they could trust, for example. She had always been firm that if Dumbledore trusted Snape, so should she, that Dumbledore knew something about Snape that proved he was a good person. Today, she had learned that Snape had known exactly how the humiliation he had subjected her and Harry to had felt. She had wondered, briefly, if that hadn’t been part of it – that he’d humiliated Harry so much as a sort of payback for the way James had treated him. But it had sounded so weird to her. Snape was – or would be? had been – a grown man by the time he had taught her and Harry.

She turned into the hallway where the portrait of the Fat Lady was and flinched violently. A figure was sitting on the floor across from the portrait in the dimly lit hallway. She drew her wand and very quietly whispered “ _Lumos_.”

It was Severus Snape. Hermione stopped for a second to examine him.

Even as he was sitting on the floor, his body was lanky and oddly angular, his bones protruding sharply under his worn and threadbare robes. His hair was greasy and almost damp, his skin already sallow as if he had not seen the sun for weeks. But the sneer of disdain that had seemed permanently etched onto his face both during the scene at the lake and in his future – her past – was gon. Instead his face was entirely blank.

She steeled herself internally, knowing full well that he might attempt to speak to her when she walked past. Snape was not yet the man he would become, he had no idea who she was and probably no reason to dislike her, but the thought of having to interact with him still made her tense and twitchy. She knew his cruelty almost as well as the back of her own hand.

When he heard her, Snape jumped up from the floor and, she noticed, drew his wand. Only when he recognized her did he lower it. “Oh. It’s you,” he mumbled in a small voice, looking oddly ashamed and angry at the same time

“Yes. The other girl who helped you, the one you didn’t insult deeply and cruelly.” She couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied as he avoided meeting her eyes out of shame. “What do you want here?”

Snape shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking like twitchy spider.

Asking for help was not something that came easy to him. “Can you just tell Lily I’m here? And that I need to talk to her.”

The cold, disdainful look she gave him made his heart sink. “And why would I do that?” The girl asked evenly.

“Just… I need to talk to her. I need to…” He swallowed, his throat oddly tight. “Explain.”

She could feel the sudden anger in her entire body. “Explain? What, and you think explaining why you called your friend you one of the worst things in the book is going to do anything? I should have hexed you then and there.”

He looked humiliated and also angry, and for a second as if he wanted to hurt her. Then the moment passed. “Please just tell her I’m here. Tell her I won’t leave until she talks to me.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”

She shook her head in disdain. “You’re… pathetic, you do know that, right?” Her anger surprised her. “I’ll tell her. I’ll also tell her that she deserves so much better than your bullshit.” She glared and turned around abruptly. For a second, she wondered whether this would be responsible for how her potions teacher had always disliked and mistreated her. Pushing the thought from her mind, she mumbled the password to the Fat Lady’s portrait and marched through the portrait hole.

Climbing into the Common Room, she was surprised to find Remus still up, sitting at a table facing the door. He immediately looked up when she came in and smiled warmly but hesitantly. Had he waited for her?

“Granger,” he called out. They had not spoken at all since she had arrived at the school, though Remus had been looking for an opportunity. The fact that she seemed to have simply appeared in Dumbledore’s office still made him curious. Since he had gotten back to the Common Room after a sneaky trip to Honeydukes with James and heard that she had been introduced to the Gryffindors by McGonagall, he had found himself keeping an eye on her. That Lily had told him that the girl often cried herself to sleep but kept them all at arms’ length only made him more curious. It reminded him of his own first year at Hogwarts, the way he had hidden away from his now best friends. Something was going on with her.

She hesitated for a second. Seeing Remus or Sirius always made her apprehensive, while seeing James Potter or Lily Evans just made her sad. But with the two boys, it was different. She knew them already, even if it was only the older, hardened versions, and it felt strange to pretend that she did not. She had never been close to Sirius, his recklessness and anger sort of scared her, but they had spent a lot of time cleaning up Grimmauld Place together and she admired Remus’ courage and kindness. They were different now, of course, younger and in much less pain, and they saw her as an equal rather than as a much younger friend of Harry’s.

Hermione smiled hesitantly and said “Lupin, right? What’s up?” as she stepped closer to his table.

“Yeah. You can call me Remus, by the way.” He smiled at her more warmly. “I just wanted to say thank you for stepping in earlier. You didn’t have to do that, and I wouldn’t have let James take off Snivellus’ pants anyway.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, her tentative smile fading, and he wondered if he had said something that annoyed her. “I didn’t do it so you’d thank me,” she said rather coolly. “I did it because it was the right thing to do. You’re a prefect, you shouldn’t have let it get this far!”

Remus sighed. “Look, if you knew Severus Snape as well as I did, you might understand better why I didn’t step in immediately.” He remembered the times Snape snuck around the infirmary on days of the full moon, and the way he would sometimes imitate wolf howls when they ran into each other in the hallways or in the library.

Hermione snorted derisively. “I’ve heard enough to know he’s got some twisted opinions. Still, what your friends did was cruel.” He wanted to agree and disagree at the same time: James and Sirius had gone too far, but he had also just told them about the wolf howls, and Snape’s opinions were more than twisted. However, she spoke before he could. “I need to get to the dormitory. See you ‘round, Remus.”

Turning away, Granger didn’t even wait for him to say goodbye. As he watched her bushy ponytail swing with every step she took, he realized he had the slightest of goosebumps and that as strongly as she had disagreed with him, she had also used his first name. He wondered what she and Lily would say to each other in their dormitory. Maybe Lily would tell him the next time he saw her.

Some part of her had expected something like this to happen for a while, but she had held on to hope that it wouldn’t. Their friendship had to be stronger than that, she had assumed. Curled up in her bed, staring out of the window, Lily wondered whether she had missed the crucial moment that would have allowed her to prevent this. Mary and Dorcas would of course tell her that she hadn’t, that it was inevitable and she should stop beating herself up.

But they had never known Severus the way she had. She remembered how shy he had been, but also how sweet with her and how enthusiastic about the Wizarding World. He had been her first friend, and for a really long time he had also been her best friend. Then their relationship had started to change and Mary had slowly but surely taken his place. She and Dorcas had tried their best to comfort her and then left her alone when Lily had asked them to. She could still hear them talking, despite the noise blocking charm she had put on her bed, but she could no longer make out the words.

A loud knock on one of the bedposts jolted her out of her thoughts. She sat up, turned around, mumbled a “Yeah, what’s up?” and was quite surprised to be face to face with the new girl.

She smiled apologetically at Lily. “I just wanted to let you know that Snape is sitting outside the Common Room.”

She felt her heart at the same time sink and soar. Somehow, she had expected that he would try to apologize to her and at the same time not really dared to believe that he would, just in case he had truly stopped caring about their relationship. She also knew that it didn’t really matter: there was nothing Severus could say to her that would change her mind. She had defended him in front of her friends for years and argued with Remus, trying to make them see that he was different because she had genuinely believed that he was. Only for him to prove her wrong.

“He said he won’t leave until you talk to him,” Hermione said and wondered if she shouldn’t just have kept that part for herself. Surprisingly, she really didn’t want Lily to go outside and talk to Snape.

For a moment, she was tempted to just lie back down and let Severus spend the night in the hallway. At the same time, she felt that it would only prolong the inevitable: he would probably try to apologise again if she didn’t go to talk to him now. Lily sighed and swung her legs off the bed. This had been a long time coming.

Mary whirled around when she heard the springs in Lily’ bed creaking. “Don’t tell me you’re really going out there to talk to him,” she exclaimed in horror. “Not after what he just called you!”

Lily sighed. “I won’t be long. I promise.” She smiled at the new girl. “Thanks for telling me. And thanks for stepping in earlier, you didn’t have to do that.”

For some reason, the girl turned beet red. “It’s no big deal,” she lied. Lily smiled at her sadly and walked out of the room, leaving her with Mary and Dorcas eyeing her curiously. “It really wasn’t,” she said meekly, adding a silent ‘please stop staring at me’.

“It was, though. You really don’t know what a massive arsehole Snivellus is,” Mary started to explain. “He and Lily have been friends forever. They grew up together. And he’s never once done anything to defend her against any of the other snakes, but she got into so many fights with Potter and Black and the Prewetts for him. He’s a spineless little coward, and I hope she punches him in the face.”

Hermione sat down on her bed, suddenly floored. “They grew up together?”

Dorcas nodded. “Yeah, they were essentially neighbours. Lily said he told her about Hogwarts and magic and everything.”

Mary sat down next to her on Dorcas’S bed, opposite Hermione, and started to play with her wand. “I don’t get why she’s still so attached to him. She better not believe whatever apology that slimy git cooked up again.”

She thought back to another apology Snape had made to Lily at the beginning of the year. They had run into Mulciber and Lestrange in the dungeons, after one of Slughorn’s many parties to which she had accompanied James as a favour, and the two Slytherins had disarmed and cornered them. Her stomach still churned when she thought of the threats they had made and the racist drivel they had spewed at her. Snape had come across the situation on his way back from the library, but rather than actually defending them in any meaningful way, he had told Mulciber and Lestrange that the Ravenclaw prefects patrolling the dungeons were about to come their way. When Lily had confronted him about it the next day, Snivellus had claimed that he couldn’t have actually defended them without making Mulciber and Lestrange turn on him next, and she had believed him. So Mary had refused to talk to Lily for almost a month.

A couple weeks later Mulciber had tried to ambush and curse her again. The thought of it still made her shiver. It had been a stroke of genius to ask James about the Levicorpus hex after the first incident and she was still proud of her wherewithal to immediately use it when she had heard Mulciber’s voice in the empty corridor. She really did not want to imagine what he would have done otherwise.

“Come on, Mary. You saw how upset Lily was today,” Dorcas reached out and squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing Snivelly could say to make her forgive him. Trust me.”

She had been staring at the exit of the empty Common Room for what felt like at forever, tapping her foot and trying to figure out what to say. The seconds seemed to stretch out and speed up at the same time. She had felt so ready when she had left the dormitory, but now Lily wished she was anywhere but here. It felt like a door would close the second she did what she had decided to do. Still, there was no getting around it. Finally, she took a deep breath, shook her hair out of her face and stepped through the portrait.

Severus started talking before he had even scrambled back into an upright position. His voice was small and desperate, high-pitched and unfamiliar to her despite the fact that they had exchanged so many words. She realised that he felt like a complete stranger to her.

“Just spare me,” she interrupted him. “I don’t care what you have to say for yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I – ”

“I’m not interested,” Lily repeated, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m so sorry!”

“Save your breath,” she shot back instantly. “I only came out because Hermione told me you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t.” Lacing every word with anger, she hoped he wouldn’t notice how much effort it took her to keep her voice from cracking. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hug Severus and she wanted to push him down a very steep flight of stairs.

“I wouldn’t have, and I won’t leave until you accept my apology.” Lily realized that he looked not just defensive, but almost angry. “I never meant to call you Mudblood, I really didn’t, it just –”

“Slipped out?” Her voice was icy and he felt his heart sink.

She remembered something Mary had said to comfort her before the practical exam. “If it slipped out that easily, you must have thought it about me quite a few times.”

It felt like a slap to the face but before he could defend himself, Lily started talking again. “I’ve defended you for years, do you know that? None of my friends can understand why I still talk to you. Do you know how much I’ve argued with Mary about you just this year?” She took a step closer to him, her bright green eyes almost slits. “You and your Pureblood supremacy bullshit. I’m sick of it. Of trying to get through to you. You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine and I can’t pretend any more that we can still be friends.”

“No – listen, I didn’t mean – ”

“To call me Mudblood?” She saw him flinch and took another step closer to him. He shrunk away from her, and as sad as it made her, she also felt weirdly triumphant. “You call everyone with parents like mine Mudblood, Snivellus.” She laced the word with all the venom she could muster, hoping the hated nickname would hurt him as much as he had hurt her. “Why should I be any different?”

When he struggled to speak, she remembered how resentful he had been when she had dated Frank Longbottom a year ago, how enraged he was that Potter fancied her. How Mary had speculated that it was because Severus himself was in love with her. For a second, she wished he would tell her that but then the thought made her even more angry. Was she the exception he placed on a pedestal while he looked down on everyone else with Muggle parents? How could he be in love with her and still hurt her so much?

“Don’t ever speak to me again. I’m done with you.” She turned on her heels and, as she took the few steps to the portrait, yearned for him to say anything. He didn’t. She walked into the Common Room and collapsed onto the floor, finally allowing the childlike sobs trapped in her chest to escape.


	6. Changing

Chapter 6: Changing

Lily took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand before pushing the door open to the fifth year girls’ dormitory. As she had expected, the others were still awake and they all immediately turned to her.

Dorcas and Hermione both looked as if they wanted to say something, but Mary simply got off the bed she had been sitting on, crossed the room and hugged her tight. For a second, Lily was stunned and motionless but then she embraced Mary, too, and took a deep, shaky breath.

After a while, she stepped back, Mary’s hands still on her shoulders. “I’m okay. I’m good,” she whispered and hugged her friend tightly again for a second. Then she threw herself onto Hermione’s bed. “So. What have you all been talking about?”

Dorcas launched into telling an inane story that had absolutely nothing to do with the exams they had been talking about just minutes earlier with the clear intention of distracting Lily, whose smile could not at all hide the fact that she had clearly been crying just moments ago. Hermione grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze; Lily looked over and smiled at her brightly. She suddenly felt warm, like she imagined Crookshanks must feel whenever he had curled up in the one spot in her dormitory that was sunny for hours, and for the first time she didn’t think of Harry when she looked into those green eyes.

So much for keeping her distance.

************************************************************

The dungeon room is cold, high-ceilinged and generally rather gloomy. I try not to shiver as I sit down and unpack. When Professor Snape enters the room and starts the roll call, I draw my cloak a bit tighter around myself, hoping that my teeth don’t chatter. Why is it so cold in here?

“Hermione… Granger,”  the Professor  over-enunciates and, for the first time, looks at  me . His expression does not change at all, but  I feel  another shiver run down  my spine, and it has nothing to do with the dungeon’s temperature. When he finishes checking attendance and begins to lecture  us all about the particularly bewitching nature of Potions,  I start trying to write, to  take proper notes, but every time  I look up, Snape’s eyes are  still boring into mine. It’s creepy .

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” The question cracks through the air like a whip, and I quickly raise my hand. When Harry Potter doesn’t know the answer, Snape turns to me. “Granger. Perhaps you can prove the rumours about your surprisingly vast knowledge to be true. Powdered root of asphodel in an infusion of wormwood leads to what exactly?”

“The Draught of the Livin g Dead, Sir,”  I  answer quickly and confidently.  It’s right in chapter 1, about the necessity to clearly differentiate ingredients. “The most potent of all sleeping potions.” He does not look pleased about  my answer , and  I wonder if  I’ve made some mistake.

“Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” Professor Snape asks, still looking at me, but when I want to answer, he quickly turns and calls on Harry Potter again, who doesn’t know. Then he picks me, I answer correctly that bezoars can be found in the stomachs of goats but Professor Snape’s mouth turns into an even thinner line. What is going on with this man? “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, Potter?”  


Unsurprisingly enough, Harry doesn’t know that either, but this time, Snape ignores  my raised hand and turns  away , striding back to  the front of the room . He looks down at  us all, perched at his desk like a crow, just waiting.  I raise  my hand a bit more –  he probably just  hasn’t seen  me – and when he still doesn’t call on  me ,  I  stretch and rais e my  hand even further. Someone snickers behind  me.

Ignoring the snickering, Snape lets the silence stretch and stretch and stretch while  I tr y to raise  my  hand higher without standing up.  He can’t be ignoring me, he just doesn’t see it, that Weasley kid sitting in front of me is gangly and tall after all. Finally,  I blurt out loudly : “Monkshood and wolfsbane are two common name s for the same plant, aconite, which is often used for its mind sharpening properties.”

Professor Snape smiles sardonically. I feel like a mouse that’s been trapped by an owl. “One point from Gryffindor, for speaking out of turn, Granger.” He first fixes his eyes on me, then Harry, then me again. “And another one from Gryffindor for your lack of preparation, Potter. I expect all of you to keep up, and to do so necessitates reading and, more than that, actually comprehending what you have read. I will not tolerate any attempts to coast through my class based on undeserved fame.” My throat feels closed off and weird. More students are snickering. “But I also will not tolerate know-it-alls who think that their overeagerness either makes them superior to their fellow students or that their brown-nosing endears them to me.” I stare at my notes, trying to read what I’ve written down so far, hoping that I won’t cry and knowing I will. “The only thing that counts in my class is genuine talent, and hard work. Now get out your books.”

She woke up so suddenly that it felt almost violent. That was not what had happened, she knew. Snape had not called at her once in their very first Potions class and he hadn’t humiliated her by calling her a know-it-all and a suck-up. He had only called on Harry who had finally said that she knew the answer and cost Gryffindor a point with his cheek.

She grabbed her wand, mumbled “Lumos” and accio’d quill, a scrap of parchment and a closed pot of ink to her bed. Hastily unscrewing the ink with one hand, her wand in the other, she once again wished she had an actual pen. Then she began scribbling down the memory of Snape ignoring her and bullying only Harry, then the words ‘memory changing?!’. Hermione couldn’t have explained why, but something drove her, bleary-eyed and half-asleep as she was. It felt crucial.

She put the quill down on the little night stand beside her bed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. With a sigh, she folded the parchment in half and stuffed it between the bed frame and the mattress. For a second, she felt like a child in her parents’ home again, hiding empty candy wrappers because she couldn’t throw them away at home without being lectured about the dangers of sugar for her teeth. Then she realized that she had barely thought about her parents at all since she had gotten here.

Hermione pushed the thought and the sadness attached to it away. “Nox,” she mumbled, put her wand down and curled up under her blanket again, trying to ignore what felt like a slowly widening hole in her chest. She screwed her eyes shut tightly and hoped for sleep to creep back in.

When she woke up again in the morning, she had forgotten all about the dream and the note. Sipping on her tea, she half-listened to Lily chattering away. The day stretched out before them both emptily and she was thinking gratefully about how this time around she hadn’t taken Care of Magical Creatures and thus wouldn’t have to sit the exam when Lily asked “What were you doing up and scribbling in the middle of the night, by the way?”

She frowned and felt the gears in her head turning until she remembered the dream and the vague sense that something about it had been odd. Now that Lily had reminded her of it, she could feel it niggling at the back of her consciousness. Why had she dreamt of her first Potions lesson? Hermione made up a white lie and resolved to look at the piece of parchment the first chance she got after breakfast.

When they got up,  Hermione told  her  that she had forgotten her Transfiguration book in the Gryffindor tower.  Lily doubted for a second that Hermione was being honest, but decided not to press the issue when they parted outside the Great Hall. She walked to the library, trying to distract herself from the fact that she had seen Snivellus sit with Mulciber of all people during breakfast.  She wondered where Dorcas and Mary  would want to meet o ver the summer holidays and whether she should invite Hermione, too.

Entering the library, she saw Remus at one of the first tables by the window and, when he waved at her, sat down opposite him. She spread out her stuff while they chatted in low voices until he suddenly cleared his throat and leaned closer to her. “Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened yesterday. I should’ve said something earlier to get them to lay off Snivellus,” he whispered.

She sighed and shook her heard wordlessly. He couldn’t help but wonder if she just didn’t want to talk about it, or if she accepted his apology. For a moment, he thought about telling Lily about Snape’s howling and sneaking around and how that had angered Sirius and James, but decided against it. She clearly didn’t want to talk about it, which made the other topic he had meant to talk to her about even more uncomfortable. Still, there was no point avoiding it, and he did not want to wait until their next Prefect round. So he cleared his throat again.

“Look, Lily, there’s something else I need to talk about with you.” She looked up, her piercing green eyes making his stomach lurch, and blushed slightly. She clearly knew what this would be about, and he shifted in his seat awkwardly.

They had kissed after their last patrol of the castle. It had been the evening before their OWLs started and the first exam had been Potions, which Lily had been extremely nervous about. She had forgotten the time while studying in the library, so she couldn’t eat before their patrol. When they were done, her stomach had been grumbling so loudly that Remus had essentially been incapable of focusing on their conversation. He had taken her to the kitchen which she had promised not to show anyone else. They’d sat down on the grand stairs opposite the doors of the Great Hall to eat and kept talking for ages even when all the food was gone. Finally, when he had made some joke that kept Lily laughing for what felt like eternity, she had suddenly leaned over and kissed him out of nowhere.

It had been his first kiss, and he had hoped for most of it that she couldn’t hear how loudly his heart was beating in his chest. She had tasted a bit like pumpkin from the pastries that she had just eaten, and smelled like oranges. She had been soft and warm under his fingers and pulled him in tightly by the front of his shirt. He had barely been able to look at her ever since without blushing.

It hadn’t been her first kiss, but so far it had been the kiss Lily had liked most. Something about Remus sneaking her to the kitchen and telling her that silly pun about Macbeth being the greatest killer of chicken in all of Shakespeare’s works had just sparked this urge in her. She had acted on it because she couldn’t see a reason not to, and she hadn’t been sure when she would have another chance. He had been surprised and shy, but she remembered how he had whispered “Wow” when they had broken apart for a moment and how much it had turned her on.

He’d had a crush on her for a while, of course. It had probably started some time near the end of their fourth year during one of their Arithmancy study sessions, though he had thought it would die down over the summer. When they were made Prefects together, he had realised that it hadn’t, so he considered himself lucky that they wouldn’t patrol the castle together for the first three months, instead going around with the sixth year Gryffindor prefects. Still, he had resolved not to act on it. That she had kissed him had been a complete and utter surprise.

Which of course made what he would say next all the more difficult.

“What happened the last time we patrolled together – it can’t happen again. You can’t kiss me again.”

She felt like she had been slapped and had to blink rapidly to stop from immediately bursting into tears. That was not what she had expected – she had hoped Remus would ask if he could write her over the summer, or maybe see her again. He had kissed her back, after all, and while they had not walked back to the Gryffindor tower holding hands or anything, they had kept brushing against each other, and he had hugged her tight when they had said good night. “Why?” she croaked out, hating how feeble her voice sounded.

“It’s James,” Remus answered quickly, feeling deeply guilty and slightly ashamed immediately. “He really, really likes you and I can’t date the girl one of my best mates  fancies .”

The expression on her face shifted from sadness and confusion to anger. For a second, he was worried she would hex him. Instead, she calmly said “You do know that there is no chance in hell I’ll ever date Potter, don’t you? It’s just – it’s never happening.” He wanted to respond, explain to her that it wasn’t about her dating James or not – it wasn’t even mainly about James, of course, though he could never tell her that – but rather about what it would do to their friendship, but before he could say anything, Lily kept talking. “I really, really like you, Remus. You are funny and smart and so, so nice. Like, you are genuinely just so kind, and that you don’t want to date me or kiss me or whatever because of your idiot friend’s idiot crush on me just… stinks. But –” She took a deep breath and tried not to sound as bitter and annoyed as she felt. “That’s just what it is, I guess.”

He visibly relaxed and smiled ever so slightly at her. It  felt awful to lie to her, but he felt like it was a white lie he could live with easily. Definitely more easily than with her finding out  that  he was a werewolf, something that was guaranteed to happen if they actually, seriously dated. Still, it sucked.

She closed her Transfiguration book rather forcefully, and sighed when Remus looked at her quizzically. “Look, I just… I need to go.” When her voice cracked on the last word, he wanted nothing more than to reach out, hug her and take back what he had just said. “I… I kinda need some time, I think. Sorry.”

Lily quickly strode out of the library. She had realized that as much as she wanted it to be okay with it just being like that, the rejection had stung too much for her to sit across from Remus and not cry. She remembered the flutter in her stomach when she had entered the library and seen him, the way she had imagined she would ask him to go down to the lake and maybe kiss him again, and just wanted to kick herself.

Some part of her wanted to turn around and lay into him, or at the very least ask if this was really about Potter. The same part of her doubted it, and suspected it might have far more to do with the scar she had felt under his shirt when they had kissed and his monthly bursts of illnesses. Then again, what if she stormed into the library and confronted him? What if she told him what she suspected? She doubted he would change his mind, and if she was wrong she was sure he would never speak to her again. And as hurt as she was right now, she didn’t want to never speak to Remus again.

Instead, she turned towards the Prefects’ bathroom. With everything that had happened over the last couple of days, there was no way she would be able to focus on studying now. Splashing around seemed like the perfect distraction.

When she reached the entrance, she realised she didn’t know the password. Staring at the Gargoyle, she remembered what Harry had once told her about Dumbledore’s sweet tooth. With a sigh, Hermione started reciting Wizarding sweets alphabetically, feeling incredibly silly at the same time. Finally, she heard a small chuckle and someone clearing their throat behind her.

He smiled at her, amused by the methodical approach to something as whimsical as candy names. “Miss Granger. If you want to speak to me, you could have just as easily sent me an owl to ask for the password.” When she blushed slightly, Albus smiled even more broadly. “It’s Jelly Slugs at the moment.”

“Thanks, Professor.” She followed him onto the steps of the staircase, standing in awkward silence as it turned. She was still trying to figure out how to phrase her worries, confused by the note she had found between her bed frame and mattress.

Entering the office, Albus swished his wand and re-conjured the burgundy armchair she had sat in when she had first arrived as well as an identical one in which he sat down. “So, Miss Granger, how have you been adjusting?”

“Fine, Professor. Well, mostly. The exams are keeping me busy. And…” She tucked  a curl behind her ear and reached into her bag. Taking out the note, she kept unfolding and then refolding it. “I think I had a weird … dream last night. I’m not even sure if dream is the right word for it. Because I  felt like  dreamt it first, but now I remember it clearly. But I wrote down that I dreamed it last night, and that and how my actual memory  were different. But I don’t remember that first memory at all any more.”

He kept his face calm, furrowing his brow ever so slightly as if to indicate that he was curious. The truth was that his thoughts were racing. If Hermione Granger’s memories were changing, as her question suggested, the implications were monumental. It could throw everything believed and known about temporal magic so far into question.

“Could I see the note?” He asked, his voice level and unconcerned.

She unfolded and straightened it. “I… I don’t think you can. It contains some information about the future that you… that I think you shouldn’t have, Professor.” Except for Umbridge, she had never really refused to do something when one of her teachers had asked, she realized. It immediately made her nervous but the fact that Dumbledore simply nodded calmly put her more at ease again. “I wrote down ‘memories changing’ with a question mark at the bottom of the page, and described my very first Potions lesson. The professor gave us a lecture on the nature of potion making and then humiliated a student by asking him questions he couldn’t have been expected to know the answers to. I knew the answers and was really overeager because the professor ignored me. Ultimately, the student that he was humiliating made a cheeky comment about me knowing the answer and lost Gryffindor a point.”

Again, Dumbledore simply nodded and she continued. “But that’s not how I remember it now. At all. What I remember now is that the same professor asked the other student the same questions. But when the other student couldn’t answer, he called on me for the first two questions and then ignored me when he asked the third one. And then, when it all felt too awkward, I just gave the answer and he deducted two points from Gryffindor for me being a know-it-all and for the other student being unprepared.”

She realized that she was acutely embarrassed by it, by her need for everyone to know that she was the smartest girl in the room and by wanting Professor Snape’s approval so much. And she was also angry at him again, at the clear set up just to humiliate her and Harry. It was curious because she had been completely calm, detached even, when she had described the first situation.

Dumbledore looked at her over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, his face serene. “It does seem like you have drawn the correct conclusions. Your memories might be changing. Has this happened before?” 

He could see that she wanted to say no, the word had already been half formed, when she suddenly clammed up again. “I’m not… sure, actually,” she finally whispered, eyes wide.

“I assumed as much. Well, Miss Granger, I can see only one way of being sure about your memories changing or not.” She looked at him in confusion, and he smiled again. “You will need to start writing down as much of your life at Hogwarts until the moment of the accident that brought you here, and check it against what you remember as you go about your life for as long as you are here. Of course that won’t prevent you recording already changed memories, but it will enable you to note if your memories change again.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant,” she whispered. He smiled, sure that it was masking the gears turning in his mind. He purposefully hadn’t mentioned the obvious conclusion to be drawn from her memories changing to Miss Granger, who cleared her throat and folded the piece of paper again. “Professor… doesn’t the fact that my memories change mean the future is changing? It’s my past, so I can remember it. But it still hasn’t actually happened to anyone else. Or has it? But if it had, if it was the future and the past at the same time and set in stone no matter what I do, wouldn’t my memories stay the way they are?”

She tried to read his face, but his smile, which had been rather small anyway, remained fixed and his alert blue eyes gave nothing away. 

“Loath as I am to admit it, Miss Granger, I’m not sure,” he lied, observing her face and body language closely. “It seems that way, but I find it difficult to say to  what extent your actions and presence can change the future. There may be moments that may be unchangeable because they lead to you being transported here in the first place.” At this, she paled ever so slightly, and Albus wondered what exactly she thought these moments could be and why they horrified her so much. “This is uncharted territory for me, too. And time has always been a rather tricky mistress, even without magic being thrown into the mix. However…” 

He smiled slightly more widely at her. “I wonder if we might not be able to pinpoint the reason for this specific change. Might the future Potions teacher be someone who, for example, currently resides in the Gryffindor tower with whom you only recently interacted? Professor McGonagall of course told me about your request when she introduced you to your housemates.” She nodded and again looked like she wanted to say something, but he interrupted her. “Professor McGonagall’s reasoning was correct then, and it still stands despite what we might have just learned. The school year will soon be over, and by the time the next one starts you might no longer be here.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “So you think I will be able to return to my own time?” She felt so happy she wanted to cry. She could not wait to throw herself into Ron and Harry’s embrace. “Soon?”

“I am… cautiously optimistic that we will have some answers soon.” He hoped that the good news would distract  the girl from the far more pressing question at hand. “Reuben has a colleague that he considers more than trustworthy, Edgar Bones, that I will meet this week. I do think it will be necessary to tread carefully, to introduce him to the Order first and get to know him, before consulting him about your situation.” She was surprised by the warmth in his eyes. “Still, I hope to introduce you to him before the end of July.”

“Thank you, Professor.” She felt like a weight had been taken of her shoulders. “I was also wondering… I don’t really have a place to go over the summer. I have no family and no money, so –”

“So you were wondering if you could stay at Hogwarts over the summer? Yes, you can. The castle will be deserted except for Professor McGonagall and myself, who are familiar with your situation, so making this exception will not be a problem. Of course you’ll have to take the train back to London with everyone else and then come back here with a portkey for appearance's sake, but that can easily be arranged.”

When she had thanked and said good bye to him, Albus couldn’t help but wonder if his approach was really the right one. The girl seemed not only to trust him greatly but to also be rather bright. She had arrived at roughly the same conclusion as he had. Still, he found it hard to gauge her reactions, to have a sense of what she would do if he made it clearer that her presence was most likely changing the future. He found it even more difficult to imagine how she would have reacted if he had let her know that he had already spoken to Edgar Bones about some of the intricacies of temporal magic and time turners.

With a sigh, he turned to Fawkes. Edgar’s answers had disconcerted him. The fact that her presence was affecting the future was even more concerning – especially because it most likely meant that whatever benefit it could have meant in the war against Voldemort was essentially null and void. He had hoped that Miss Granger’s knowledge of what was yet to come could serve as a shield against the coming storm. Now he wasn’t just unsure if Miss Granger would even share that knowledge but also whether it would even be safe to ask.


End file.
